


Company’s Coming

by iriswallpaper



Series: Misery Loves Company [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bi Pan Sherlock, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Frottage, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sally initiates it this time, They both agree it’s not a relationship, Vaginal Fingering, but they're not buddies, fuck buddy, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iriswallpaper/pseuds/iriswallpaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month after their first night together, Sally invites Sherlock over for casual sex. After betting they can outdo each other between the sheets, the night ends in a very satisfying draw. </p><p>Sequel to:<br/><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5268935">Misery Loves Company</a><br/>Set a month after John's wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Company’s Coming

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed so please forgive my mistakes.

The Morstan/Watson wedding was almost a month in the past. Sherlock was sure he’d shaken off the vestiges of sentiment attached to thoughts of that day. He’d carefully packaged the data from the wedding and reception in a virtual cardboard box and sealed it with virtual packing tape and twine, then locked it in a cupboard in the room of his Mind Palace where he stored all things related to John. Life had returned to near-normal for him: cases from Lestrade, private clients, experiments, writing up the result of those experiments for his website, visits from his annoying brother, tea with Mrs. Hudson.

One thing that did not return to normal after the wedding day was Sally Donovan. The first time they’d crossed paths at a crime scene, she’d met Sherlock’s eyes briefly then looked away. And, most remarkably, she’d kept her mouth shut. No more ‘hullo, freak.’ No more insulting his deductions. It was, frankly, disconcerting - but no one on the Homicide squad seemed to notice any difference. Sherlock caught her her watching him occasionally but when he caught her eye, she shifted her gaze without acknowledging him. When forced to interact by circumstances of their professions, Sally was civil and brusque. 

That’s why she took Sherlock by surprise as he exited Lestrade's office on a Friday afternoon. He deduced that she’d been watching for him to leave but carefully concealed her loitering by trying to appear engaged in official duties. “Hullo, Sherlock.” Sherlock widened his eyes at the greeting. He’d been braced for her customary “hullo, freak.”

Sally continued, “Are you free tonight?”

Sherlock’s eyes roved Sally’s face, trying to deduce her intention. She appeared slightly on edge - a light flush spread over her cheeks and her pupils were slightly dilated. A slow smile spread over his face. _Ah, then, sex. She wants another sexual encounter._ “I don’t have any pressing commitments today.”

“Come by my place later?” Sally aimed for a casual tone.

Sherlock gave her a smirk. “Certainly. Eight o’clock?”

“Yeah, see you at eight then. I’ll text you my address.”

“Really, Sargent Donovan. Do you think I need to be told your address?’

Sally looked him up and down. “Of course you already know. Don’t be late.”

“For you, Sally. Never.”

~*~ 

Sally’s block of brick three storey homes was in a modest but safe area of town. Based on Sherlock’s knowledge of Met seniority structure and pay grades, he reasoned that she could afford a nicer neighborhood. He deduced that Sally was practical, saving for her future instead of squandering her income on a trendy loft. Sherlock arrived at five minutes past eight. Sally answered the bell in a loose, soft knit blue shirt and flowing knit skirt. Navy slide sandals, a brand Sherlock wasn’t familiar with, adorned her slender feet. Her face was innocent of makeup, but all the more lovely for it. The tips of her curls were wet, betraying that she’d just finished in the shower. Sally greeted him and lead him up the stairs to the top floor.

The door from the landing lead directly into Sally’s living room; it stretched across the front of the building, larger than Sherlock’s living room but much more sparsely furnished. The walls were a buttery yellow that complimented the white leather sofa and brown tweed armchair. Very dark wood accent furniture provided a pleasing contrast. Sally took his coat and lead him through to the kitchen, where she hung it in a small closet. The kitchen was also yellow, with vintage 1940s white metal cabinets and stainless steel countertops. A chrome cocktail shaker and two martini glasses were the only items cluttering the counter other than a coffee maker. One glass was a third full of a drink the color of a blood orange. Sally topped off her glass and filled the other. 

“Cosmo?” she asked, handing the second glass to Sherlock. He took it and leaned against the counter, surveying Sally and her flat as he sipped. He deduced that Sally was on her third drink. He thought back to their previous encounter, when he’d been the one to initiate sex. He’d been quite inebriated that night while Sally had been quite sober. Did she think that those roles should be reversed since she’d been the one to instigate their assignation today? He looked around the flat. It was almost painfully clean - not a speck of dust or smudge in sight. Magazines were line up precisely on the coffee table. Sally’s mobile lay on an end table and other than lamps, nothing else cluttered any surface of the living room. The yellow, orange and brown flecked rug in front of the sofa showed not one hint of lint and the sheer white curtains at the windows bore not a single wrinkle. The kitchen gleamed under the halogen ceiling fixture, if anything, more clean than the living room. It was hateful.

“Nice flat,” Sherlock said and took another sip of the overly tart cocktail. “It’s very … clean.”

His observation caught Sally mid-sip. She coughed and turned red in the face. Once she’d recovered her breath, she answered, “I guess you’re not really used to regular housekeeping, are you?”

Sherlock looked away. There wasn’t any need for her to insult his flat. Yes, it was cluttered. And dusty. And there smudges on the windows and dishes in the sink. But it was comfortable. 

They’d determined during their first encounter that any future rendezvous would be solely for sex. It was not a friendship and not any type of relationship by any stretch of the imagination. Enough small talk then. Move it along. Sherlock knocked back his drink and sat the glass beside the shaker. “Shall we?” he said, gesturing dramatically toward the living room. He took the glass from Sally’s hand and sat it on the counter beside his.

Sally looked at him for a moment then turned and lead the way through the living room and on into the bedroom. Its walls were painted a soothing moss green and the room was as spotless as the rest of the flat: an antique dresser with mirror, a small armchair upholstered in dark purple velvet, a small chest beside the king size bed. A white quilt covered the bed, obviously hand embroidered with sprays of violets. Sally set to work removing the quilt. Sherlock shrugged off his jacket and folded it over the back of the chair while she folded the quilt and laid it on the seat. He bent to remove his shoes and socks and when he straightened, Sally was sat on the side of the bed watching him. She gave him an encouraging smile, so he unbuttoned his cuffs then the placket of his shirt. He slipped it off and folded it over his jacket then took off his trousers and added them to the pile. It was all rather businesslike but that suited Sherlock. Romance had no place in this encounter.

Sherlock had no sense of modesty - they were there to have sex, there wasn’t any reason to be self conscious. Clad only in low slung black knit boxer briefs, he held out his hand to pull Sally up. “I do believe you’re overdressed for the occasion, Miss Donovan. Allow me to help you with that.” He grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over hear head. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Sherlock slid his hands up her sides, bracket his thumbs under her full breasts as he bent to kiss her. He cupped her breasts in his big hands and murmured against her lips, “Your breasts are quite symmetrical.” 

Sally smiled into the kiss.

Sliding his hands up to cradle her head, Sherlock deepened the kiss, tracing the soft, dewy inside of her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Sally responded eagerly, opening her lips to take in his tongue and caressing it with her own. She moved to close the space between their bodies and Sherlock felt the soft pressure of her breasts against his torso. He slipped an arm down to draw her closer but it forced her head back at nearly a 45 degree angle to maintain the kiss so he pulled away. Sally stumbled a little at the loss of his support. Surely three Cosmos wasn’t too much for her? Sherlock caught her elbows. “Steady there, Sally. Are you sure you’re not too inebriated?”

Sally shook her head vigorously. Her curls fanned out against her cheeks in the aftermath. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she protested. “Just, get those pants off and get in bed. Hurry up, would you?” She slipped her thumbs in the waistband of her skirt and pulled it down. It fell in a puddle around her feet; she wasn’t wearing any knickers underneath. 

Eager to comply, Sherlock pulled his pants down until they fell to his feet and kicked them away. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Sally between his knees, taking a dark nipple between his lips and circling it with his tongue. Sally braced one hand on his shoulder and slipped the other into his hair. “Oh! You skipped the product tonight!” she exclaimed.

Grinning, Sherlock tipped his head up to meet her eyes, propping his chin on her sternum, between her breasts. “Just a little silicon based product. Tames frizz without stiffness.”

Sally smoothed Sherlock’s hair back from his forehead, running her fingers through the thick curls. She planted a kiss on his hairline. “This product is really good stuff. We’ll have to trade beauty tips after.”

Sherlock agreed with a hum and went back to laving Sally’s nipples, one after the other. She leaned into his attentions and threw her head back with a moan. One hand supporting a full breast, the other supporting her slim back, Sherlock grazed Sally’s nipple with his teeth then went back to circling it with the tip of his tongue. After a while he propped his chin on Sally’s sternum again. “Let’s make this interesting,” he said. “I’ll bet you a tenner I can deduce something that you’ve never done before.”

Sally looked down at him. “Are you saying I’m some type of slag who know all the tricks?” 

“Not at all. But you do know what you want and aren’t afraid to ask for it. Are you in for a ten?”

Sally pretended to think the offer over. “Sure, but it goes both ways. I’ll bet a tenner I can find something new for you, too.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes with a smirk. “Really, Sally? I’ll take the bet because it’s a sure ten in my pocket.”

She pushed at his shoulder in mock indignation. “What, do you think you know every trick in the book?”

Sherlock turned his head and pressed a kiss to the inside of her left breast, then planted his chin on her breastbone again. “I have the advantage of superior observational skills. ”

She mock-frowned. “You’ve got me on that one. But I’ll still offer the bet. I think I know a trick or two you don't.”

“Deal.”

Sherlock stood and kissed Sally from above again. He maneuvered her around to the edge of the bed, then broke the kiss. “Hands and knees on the edge of the bed. If you please.”

Sally climbed onto the bed to comply. Sherlock placed his hand between her shoulder blades and pressed her torso to the mattress. “You’ll be more comfortable with your head in your hands,” he said matter-of-factly. Sally folded her hands and leaned cheekbone onto them. She glanced over her shoulder with a question in her eyes. Sherlock smiled a reassurance then nudged her knees wide apart as he grasped her hips and tipped her body back, arching her back to give him better access. “You are quite visually pleasing,” he murmured as he lowered himself to his knees behind her.

At first he licked carefully over Sally’s perineum, then circled her vaginal opening with the tip of his tongue. Sally sighed and made quiet “ah” sounds in response. He slid his hands up her smooth thighs and spread her labia with his thumbs, licking lower, stretching his tongue out all the way until its tip flicked her clitoris. She sighed a louder “AH” in response. He focused on her clitoris until his jaw cramped, then Sherlock set up a rhythm of laving premium - vagina - clitoris with his tongue over and over. Sally tilted her hips further back to give him better access and spread her knees even wider. Sherlock lapped at her dripping opening, enjoying the taste of her arousal.

When her sighs turned to loud moans, Sherlock inserted two fingers in her sopping vagina. Rotating his wrist, he quickly located her G-spot and rubbed firmly while trailing his tongue higher, up between her buttocks, over her opening and licking to the top of her cleft. Sally shuddered, rocking back to meet his fingers eagerly. 

After licking a few long, wet stripes from his fingers to the base of Sally’s spine, Sherlock circled her hole with his tongue, swirling closer and closer until his tongue met the sensitive tissue of her anus. Sally flinched and yelped in response, then rocked back eagerly to meet Sherlock’s tongue. He grinned against her opening, licking and kissing as Sally moaned and squirmed. Finally he twisted his lower hand, finding Sally’s G-spot again while rubbing her clit with the pad of his thumb.

Her cries grew louder as the movement of her hips grew frantic. Sherlock spared a thought for Sally’s neighbors - he was sure they could hear that she was having a good time. Groaning, Sally pressed her hands into the mattress and raised her head. “Fuck, oh fuck. Just ... More.” Happy to comply, Sherlock pointed his tongue and breached the tight ring of muscle. Sally’s thighs began to quiver as he pressed his fingers into her G-spot - hard. Orgasm swept over her in waves that Sherlock could feel on both his tongue and fingers. Sally’s back arched acutely, making it difficult for Sherlock to keep up both pressure with his fingers and contact with his tongue, but he rose up on his knees to keep giving her pleasure as a gush of hot fluid wet his hand to the wrist. 

“God, oh god,” Sally groaned. Sherlock helped her lay down then stood beside her, just looking. Her cheeks were flushed, damp hair matted against her forehead and temples, mouth slack and eyes closed as she came down from the natural high. She cracked one eye and looked back at him with a grin. “Get my purse. You earned your tenner.”

Sherlock laughed as he climbed onto the bed beside her. He reclined against the headboard, erection jutting into the air, as he licked the residue of Sally’s orgasm from his fingers. After a few quiet moments, Sally recovered her breath and propped onto her elbow to look up at him. “Give me a chance to earn back that ten?” she said with a mischievous smile. Sherlock nodded.

She turned away to reach the nightstand drawer. Sherlock heard her rummage in the drawer’s contents then close it again. She turned back toward him with a condom packet between her fingers. “Banana. I like the flavor better than cherry.” 

“Banana? Rather cliche, isn't’ it?”

Sally ripped the packet open between her teeth. “Yep, but I don’t mind if you don’t.” 

Sherlock moaned as she settled between his knees and rolled on the yellow condom. He’d been hard for so long, he ached for relief. “I don’t mind, just get on with it,” he ground out between his teeth.

Sally sat back on her knees and placed her hands on her thighs. “I dunno. Maybe I’ll just take a few minutes to admire the view.”

Sherlock looked down the length of his body. The bight yellow condom looked ridiculous. He huffed a disdainful laugh as he dropped his head back against the headboard. “Sally, just. For god’s sake, touch me.”

“There’s my ten. Made you beg.”

“That’s not begging,” Sherlock said haughtily. “It was a request.”

Sally giggled as she ran her fingertips along Sherlock’s lean stomach. She teased the neatly trimmed dark curls at the base of his cock, then cupped his bollocks. It drew up in response, but Sally tugged gently. “Get. On. With. It.” he demanded.

“Rude,” Sally mused as she traced the thick vein on the bottom of Sherlock’s erection that stood out plainly through the latex. Sherlock groaned in reply and moved his hands to the headboard on either side of his head, gripping to keep his hands occupied.

Finally tired of teasing, Sally bent and took Sherlock into her mouth. She teased with her tongue, light licks and flicks at the glans and frenulum. Even though the condom, it felt exquisite. Sherlock thought back to their first night together. Sally had sucked cock like a pro and he could easily get off just from her mouth alone. He leaned his head forward to watch Sally’s curls bounce as her head bobbed. A look of intense concentrated creased her brow. She glanced up to meet his gaze and her brow softened. 

If Sherlock hadn’t known better, he’d have said her look was almost … affectionate. Tonight had certainly been different from the first time. For one thing, he was sober. For another, tonight held an element of fun that had not been present the first time. They were more relaxed - almost playful. Sherlock smiled down at Sally then tipped his hips upward. Sally pulled back at the same time, keeping just the tip of his cock between her lips. “Suck me,” Sherlock murmured.

Sally pulled off with a pop. “Bossy, aren’t you? I’m getting to it. Just hold your horses.” She fitted her lips around Sherlock’s glans again and this time, she sucked him in. Almost too hard, just on the border of pleasure and pain. At the same time, she reached up and pinched Sherlock’s nipple. 

He groaned loudly, letting his head drop back between his shoulder blades. “Oh god,” he groaned again, trusting his hips, pushing his cock into Sally’s mouth. She let him, keeping her lips tight around him continuing her firm suction. He thrust again and again, still gripping the headboard, his feet flat against the mattress for traction, until Sally moved her hands to his hips and held them still. Sherlock moaned as Sally stroked her index finger behind his bollocks, teasing until Sherlock spread his legs wider. She brought her hand to her lips and inserted her middle finger into her mouth beside his cock, wetting it then using it to stroke his entrance. She circled with her fingertip, saliva easing the friction of her blunt fingernail against his sensitive tissue. She angled her head down, pushing the back of her tongue against the head of his cock, cupping the tip of her tongue against the base. 

Sherlock had never felt anything like it before. Even with the barrier of the condom, the trick Sally performed over and over with her tongue jumped him past orgasm into a white-out state where sensation overtook all else. Sally firmly pressed her fingers into the flesh just behind his scrotum; he tried to groan, tried to breathe, but his lungs seemed to be in a state of suspended animation as his cock throbbed. The exquisite agony lasted minutes - hours - it could have been only seconds, Sherlock wasn’t sure. He existed at the center of a pinwheel while time spun around him. 

His lungs burning, a gasp finally passed Sherlock’s lips. He groaned in pleasure-pain as Sally withdrew her fingertip and sat back. He gripped his knees and took great gulps of air while Sally stroked his thigh until he came back into his body. 

“Oh hell. What ...” Sherlock swore under his breath.

Sally smirked. “Dry orgasm. Never had it before?”

Sherlock let his head roll from side to side as he answered. “Never. I’ve heard of it, of course, but never experienced it.”

Sally shot a pointed glance at his still-erect penis. “Feels good? And it will leave you hard for ages.”

“Almost painfully good.”

“Well, you owe me twenty quid now. Two firsts for you tonight.” Sally smirked.

“I did not beg. We’re even.” 

With a loud sigh, Sally extended her hand. Sherlock took it and they shook on it. “Even,” she said.

Sherlock touched himself. His cock felt odd, wooden and numb but still wanting. Sally straddled his thighs and slid forward until her face was level with his. She slotted their lips together. Sherlock stroked her sides as they kissed. Sally spread her legs until he could feel the heat of her sex against his. She moved her hands to his shoulders and broke the kiss, body surging then receding as she ground her sex against his. Sherlock felt the slickness of her arousal through the condom, the heat of her labia embracing his cock, and when she tipped her hips back, the tiny button of her clitoris hard against the underside of his cock. Sally rubbed herself against him with her eyes closed, lips apart as she panted, little ‘oh’ sounds on each exhale. Sherlock dropped his hands to keep from distracting her intense concentration. She was lovely like this, using his body for her own pleasure, face slack with pleasure, lips swollen and wet from their kisses, and Sherlock knew she’d found her orgasm when she sucked in a breath, held it, and ground almost painfully against his erection. He held his breath, watching her silent pleasure, until at last she let out a sigh and wilted against him. 

Sherlock smirked - could he have given her two orgasms tonight? Or was his body just her sex toy for the second one? Either way, it had been lovely to witness. 

He trailed his fingers up and down her back and whispered in her ear, “I’d really like to fuck now.”

A shiver ran through Sally’s body at Sherlock’s words. She raised her head and kissed him hungrily, then hovered just above his lips to reply, “That sounds wonderful.” She shifted off him to kneel on the bed and watched while Sherlock clambered to his feet. He stood beside the bed and reached his arms out to Sally, who scooted across the bed to him then laid back. Sherlock pushed his hands under her thighs, dragging her toward him and supporting her weight on his forearms. Sally reached between them to guide Sherlock into position then lifted her hips to take him in all the way to the hilt. 

They both exhaled satisfied sighs as Sally wrapped her legs around Sherlock’s waist. Sherlock set a fast pace, his arms twined around Sally’s slim thighs and gripping her hips to lift her body to meet his. He pulled her toward him to meet each thrust. A satisfied sound escaped his throat with each trust, exhaled on his panting, mingling with the sounds being pounded out of Sally and skin meeting skin.

Sally was left with little to do in the position except cup her breasts to keep them from bouncing violently - and relax and go along with the ride. But that wasn’t really Sally’s cup of tea. “Hold on, Sherlock.”

Sherlock stopped immediately and dropped Sally’s hips to the mattress. “Did I…”

Sally propped herself up on her elbows. “No, no. It’s just. I wanted a different position.” She eased away and stretched out face down on the bed with her arms stretched above her. Sherlock climbed onto the bed and knelt between her spread thighs. He guided himself back home with one hand while he held his weight off of Sally with the other. Sally sighed as he took a few shallow thrusts.

Pausing a minute to deduce Sally’s intention, Sherlock let his eyes wander up and down her trim back. Her face was turned to the side, but her hair covered it except for the tip of her nose, her mouth and chin. Her lips parted and she let out a small sigh and suddenly it clicked for Sherlock: in this position, he was a body for Sally, a hard cock, hands against her skin, muscular legs against her thighs. Sally could give herself over to the pleasure of being taken - by a body -and let him do all the work while she enjoyed it, as long as she could avoid the reality that it was Sherlock’s body taking hers, Sherlock’s hands on her, Sherlock’s cock inside her. And her tightly-closed eyes when she’d brought herself off earlier - Sherlock deduced that Sally could only come when she could block out that it was Sherlock Holmes whose body she used for pleasure.

 _Two can play that game._ Sherlock grinned to himself and carefully lifted his knees to the outside of hers.”Slide your legs together,” he murmured. Sally did, clamping her thighs together to give him more friction.

Sherlock reached one hand up and clasped both of Sally’s, gripping firmly. His propped on his other elbow beside Sally’s torso where he could lick and kiss her shoulder and the nape of her neck. _If she wants a body to use her - happy to oblige/_ Once again he set a fast pace, fucking hard and rough, pulling gasps and moans out of Sally. Caged in by Sherlock’s legs and arms, pinned by his hand, her participation was limited to wordless encouragement, which she gave freely. Sherlock bit his lip and tried to think of other things to hold off his own orgasm when it became clear to him that Sally was, indeed, close to another one herself. He adjusted the angle of his hips and from Sally’s squeal, he’d found just the spot she needed to put her over the edge. Her body tensed, she went quiet and Sherlock could feel her body pulsating around him. With a groan, his hips lost the rhythm and he gave himself over to the white-hot tide spreading up from his bollocks. 

The silvery after-ripples played up and down Sherlock’s spine as he pressed his chest to Sally’s back and took a moment to get his breath. Not nearly enough time had passed when Sally squirmed. 

Heaving himself to the mattress beside her, Sherlock stripped off the condom and dropped it to the floor beside the bed to be dealt with later.

“God, I’d kill for a cigarette,” Sherlock’s lazy tone matched the way he sprawled loose jointed across the bed.

Sally reached out toward the nightstand and rummaged in the drawer once again. Sherlock raised his head in alarm - _surely she didn’t want another go already?_ He dropped it in relief when she turned back toward him with pack of Marlboro's with a disposable lighter inserted into its cellophane wrapper. She placed a cigarettes between her lips and held one out toward Sherlock. He leaned forward and took it between his lips and smiled as Sally lit it.

“Thought you didn’t smoke?” Sherlock mumbled around the filter.

Sally exhaled a stream of smoke. “I don’t. But now and then, after good sex, there’s nothing like a cigarette.”

Sherlock barked a laugh, nearly dropping the cigarette from his lips. “Hey, watch it. These sheets are Egyptian cotton!” Sally snatched his Marlboro and turned toward the nightstand again. She turned back with a green ceramic ashtray. Sherlock picked up his cigarette from it and scooted further up on the pillows. 

“You were expecting good sex,” he said with a smile in his voice. 

“Based on last time, yes. You’re a pain in my backside at work but you know your way around a mattress.” Sally tapped her cigarette on the ashtray.

“I noticed you stopped calling me freak,” Sherlock murmured.

Sally glanced over at him and smirked. “After that … thing … you did first, I may have to start again.” She took a drag on her cigarette and reclined against the headboard.

Sherlock glanced over at Sally but her eyes were closed as she smoked silently. He deduced that something else was on her mind. “Why tonight?” he asked.

Sally opened her eyes and glanced at him with a questioning sound, “Mmm?”

“Why this?” Sherlock gestured between them. “Tonight?”

Sally took a drag then fiddled with her cigarette, flicking it repeatedly against the ashtray. It didn’t take a consulting detective to tell she was stalling. She ran her other hand through her hair to hook it behind her ear. “I was up for a promotion. I had the seniority, I did the required hours of extra training. But I was passed over today. The position went to someone less qualified than I am.” She sighed and glanced at Sherlock. “The superintendent told me I needed to work on my discernment, that if I believed what Moriarty wanted us to believe, it means I’m not an effective detective.”

Sherlock swallowed. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “It seems I blocked your promotion with my fake suicide.” 

“I was pissed off at you most of the time you were dead. I really thought you were a psychopath and that you’d tried to poison those kids.” Sally paused to smoke. “But when it all came out, how Moriarty had manipulated all of us, I realized I was pissed off at the wrong person. Moriarty was a master manipulator. And I fell for his bullshit.”

Sherlock ran his hand down the length of Sally’s arm then circled his fingers around her wrist. “Moriarty left chaos in his wake. It never seems to end. Anguish, pain, destruction - it’s his legacy.”

Sally didn’t reply. She looked down at Sherlock’s pale hand on hers and thought of what he’d suffered because of Moriarty - he’d lost John, first to grief then to a wife. He’d lost two years of life. “Yeah,” she finally said. “And it goes on and on, doesn’t it?”

Stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, Sherlock nodded. “Your career will recover. You’re a good detective. This was just the superintendent's opportunity to remind you that you made one mistake. But you won’t do it again, and he knows it. A promotion will be there for you next year.” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Sally frowned as she ground out her cigarette with just a tad too much force.

Sherlock placed a finger under her chin to tilt her face up to his. “Don’t you know, Sally?” He smirked down at her. “I’m always right.”


End file.
